


Rise Again, Appear Again

by lollzie



Series: Summer of Gotham [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Future AU, M/M, Post Season 4, Pre-Slash, Summer of Gotham, SummerofGotham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 01:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollzie/pseuds/lollzie
Summary: Post Season 4 AU.Ever since Strange brought him back from the dead Ed has been different. He can feel it deep down inside of him but can’t find the words to describe it. More than ever, there’s less distinction between himself and the Riddler. Whilst once they were constantly warring, they are now cohesive, more of a unit rather than two separate entities in one space.





	Rise Again, Appear Again

**Author's Note:**

> For the Summer of Gotham challenge. Week 3 - Future AU.

The first thing he was aware of was the pain. Sharp and shooting down his left side, with each breath it pulsed, throbbing up and down his body.

The next thing he was aware of was the noises, to his left there’s a steady beating, falling in perfect rhythm. To his right, voices, hushed and muffled so that he can’t pick up on how many speakers are present, let alone work out what they’re saying. 

The world is blurred when he opens his eyes, shadows casting their influence all around the dimly lit room. Arched windows lined the wall closest to him, but the lights from the streets weren’t close or bright enough to illuminate the room that he’s currently in. Instead he has to rely on what has seeped in from the cracks from the door, it’s not great but it’s enough to get basic bearings. He’s on a cot by the looks of it, a threadbare blanket covering him. A quick feel of his body tells him he’s in a gown, similar to those from the hospital, starched within an inch of its life and incredibly uncomfortable. 

His fingers stop at the crook of his right elbow, wrapping around a small tube and following the route. He’s connected to a drip, the fluid he’s being pumped with almost halfway through. In the poor light, and without his glasses there’s no hope of working out what it is. He prays it’s nothing more than fluids to keep him hydrated, but he’s never been that lucky. The beeping he realises, is also related to him. An oximeter has been taped onto his left index finger, and the steady beeps are mirroring his own heartbeat. At the realisation the noises start to increase in speed, and he realises that he’s getting dangerously close to panicking. 

That won’t do, he can’t let that happen. If he panics he’ll make mistakes and he’ll never escape from… wherever the hell he’s supposed to be right now. He forces himself to take a deep breath, trying to focus on the rest of the room, a difficulty in itself even when squinting. 

Next to him, not even six feet away lays another crib. The occupant, like him seemed to be hooked up to just as many devices; unlike him, they were sleeping soundly, completely unaware of their current situation. 

What had happened? Why was he here? 

His mind is blank as he tries to think, no answers forthcoming.

He remembers that the city had been in disarray. Jerimiah’s bombs causing carnage and mayhem as thousands of people frantically tried to leave the city. He remembers Lee doing everything she could to get the people of the Narrows to safety. He remembers punching Jim Gordan (and God is he glad he can still remember that), before Lee stopped him from killing him. And then he remembers her betrayal.

If he wasn’t in so much pain and still groggy from whatever sedation pumping through his veins he would laugh. The knife had been in his hand, he had been prepared to do it, but she had beaten him to the punch. But he had still managed it, ripping the blade from his stomach to deliver the fatal blow to the doctor. With a startling realisation he turns his head to the neighbouring cot. Is that her? He can’t be certain, without his glasses and in the poor light it’s impossible to tell, but he wouldn’t be surprised. 

But how? They were fatal wounds, both of them. They should have bled out rapidly once passing out. Who had found them? And more importantly, had chosen to save the both of them? 

“Mr Nygma, I see you have awoken,” a smooth voice said from above him. So deep in his thoughts, Ed hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps, but the voice is familiar, has haunted enough of his nightmares that Ed is quickly brought crashing down to reality. Strange. 

He goes to sit up, to move and get away from this monster but a gentle hand on his shoulder is enough to keep him down. 

“Whilst I am glad to see you’re finally awake you are still too weak,” Strange said, a grin toying at the corners of his mouth. Ed doesn’t know if he’s meant to be looking comforting, but it’s having the opposite effect. “You need some more rest.” 

A sharp pain pierces through his neck and Ed feels the familiar sensation of a drug being pumped through his system. He tries to lash out, to break free but already the medication is having an effect. His limbs grow weak as his eyelids become heavier. The already unfocused vision of Strange becomes blurrier still, Ed tries to fight it but he’s weak. In seconds he’s welcoming back the warm embrace of the darkness. 

. }}}}}}}}}}}  
When he wakes up again it’s daytime. The sunlight is streaming through the arched windows, illuminating the whole room. The figure on the bed next to him is awake too, and he was right, it is Lee. 

She’s sat up, sipping carefully at a glass of water, her complexion pale and eyes hollow. Ed can’t imagine he looks much better.

“Strange?” he asks, voice breaking over the word after so long of not talking.  
“He was here when I woke up,” Lee answered, watching Ed moving to sit up, though ultimately giving up when the pain became too much. “Took my vitals and then left. I haven’t seen him since.” 

“What happened? Why are we here?” Ed asks. He suspects the answer already, the presence of Hugo Strange is never a good omen but if there’s an alternative answer he’d readily take it. 

“I think we were dead,” Lee answers, confirming Ed’s suspicions. “Neither of us stabbed to maim, and we have a bit too much medical experience to have messed it up. I don’t know why he’d have brought us back.” 

“That I’m afraid, is all down to me my old friends,” a voice says at the doorway. Simultaneously Ed and Lee freeze, before turning their heads to meet the very familiar speaker. Oswald hobbles into the room, looking over the pair with curiosity. Behind stand Bridget and Victor, two of Strange’s other experiments, Ed feels sick as he realises that he is now one of those ‘freaks’ that he had previously judged so much. 

“You know, if you didn’t know any better, it would be impossible to tell that you two were both officially dead for a good hour each. Dr Strange really does work miracles doesn’t he?” 

“Why did you bring us back? You hate us,” Lee said, looking ready for a fight even in her poor condition. 

“I admit, I have let my feelings cloud my judgement before, which has always ended poorly,” Oswald nodded, walking over to Ed’s bed and inspecting the IV bag that he was still hooked up to. Ed didn’t know what he was looking for, it wouldn’t surprise him if Oswald didn’t either, but it seemed to placate him. “But Gotham is in more disarray than usual. And seeing how you ran the Narrows has proven to me that you’re both more than capable of returning some of the order that we so desperately need.

“Bringing you back Lee was also a little selfish on my part I admit. Jim Gordan is running what is left of the GCPD and knowing that you are alive and… somewhat well will make it more likely that he will actually be reasonable during our interactions. You know how hot-headed he can be.” 

“You expect us to believe that Strange hasn’t done anything to us,” Ed snorted, bringing Oswald’s attention back to him. “After all his other little experiments.”

“I gave Hugo strict instructions,” Oswald said, his voice souring at Strange’s name. “He reversed the damage you two inflicted on each other, and from being kept on ice for so long, but that is all.” 

“You mean?” Ed asked, not daring to believe Oswald was telling the truth. His intelligence had slowly been returning to normal, but even when he had welcomed back the Riddler he was far from his baseline. 

“Yes. Your riddles should actually make sense once more.” 

“Oh Eddie boy, this is going to be fun,” a toothy figure said with a vicious grin. Ed waited for the familiar sense of dread to hit him at the sight of him but none came. 

}}}}}}}}

Oswald hadn’t been lying when he had described Gotham to them. Whole streets seemed to be deserted, shop windows boarded up and cars smashed to pieces. Now that he was moving Ed had to admit the pain in his side wasn’t as bad as he initially thought, though he was actively aware of the dull throbbing working his way down his leg. If the way Lee had wrapped a protective arm around her front was any indication she was feeling the same way, he couldn’t help but get a grim satisfaction out of it. At least they were both suffering. 

“I’ve acquired City Hall as our base of operations,” Oswald told them, leaning heavily on his stick as he made his way up the stairs. No doubt his leg was causing him pain Ed thought, they hadn’t stopped walking since leaving the company of Strange and it hadn’t been a short trip. He knew why Oswald had done it though, it was the easiest way to show the damage to both him and Lee. Showed them that he was telling the truth about this, and likely many other things. 

With a nod from Oswald, Bridget and Victor stop trailing the small rag-tag group, splitting up to cover either side of the building. “They’re proving to be useful allies in this tumultuous time. Once I convinced them that it’s in their best interest to work with me and not against.”

“And is that what you want from us?” Lee asked, stopping at the entrance, seemingly unimpressed by the amount of ammo everyone seemed to be packing. “For us to be your allies?” 

“That fool Jerimiah has brought carnage to Gotham,” Oswald spat. “Whilst I am a fan of some chaos there is a limit and we have long since passed it. Once upon a time people knew their place, but now it’s bedlam. I am doing what I can to try and bring back some of that order to –“

“Let me guess, you’ll be at the top of it if you do?” Lee interrupted, looking unimpressed. Ed could tell Oswald was angered, his eyes glinting dangerously and fist clenching tightly around his cane, but to his credit he kept it in. 

“Gotham needs a ruler. It’ll be no different to the days of Falcone.” 

Lee wanted to argue more, Ed could see she was practically itching for a fight, but surprisingly she managed to hold her tongue. “You have an infirmary?” She asked instead, walking in the direction Oswald pointed to without another word. The tension in her shoulders and stiff stance told Ed that she was fuming and wouldn’t truly calm down for hours. He only hoped that she wouldn’t find any mouthy patients, for their sake. 

“It’s not like you to stay so quiet,” Oswald commented, showing Ed into a private room away from the hustle and bustle of the foyer. He took a seat with a relieved sigh, only now showing the pain he had been in when behind a closed door. Ed was surprised he was allowed to witness it, Oswald had always seen his injured leg as a weakness, only opening up about it when Ed was made his chief of staff and they were at their closest. He wondered what it meant, if it meant anything. 

“Dying will do that to a person,” he says instead, sitting down himself, his own sigh of relief almost rivalling Oswald’s. 

“How’s your wound?” he asked, trying to sound casual but Ed could pick up on the glimmer of concern. He was surprised he was even worth a glimmer still. 

“It’s fine, healing nicely by the looks of it,” Ed straightened out his left leg as he spoke, hoping it would help to ease the pain. “But Lee hit me low, my leg’s been affected somehow. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Enough about me though, what are you planning Oswald? How are you going to usurp Jerimiah’s little band of loyal followers?”

}}}}}}}}}}

Gotham had never been a quiet city at night. Whilst not quite New York by a long stretch the small city did fairly well in the nightlife stakes. Now though, the noises were different. From where he lay on his cot, this time surrounded by others who had aligned with the Penguin to keep safe in this strange new world, Ed could hear it all. 

There were screams and cries for help, he had stopped trying to count how many after an hour or so. Shots of gunfire and bangs from cars backfiring frequently broke the air, the shattering of glass as people broke into the surrounding buildings. Every once in a while, he would hear the whir of Victor’s ice gun or the roaring whoosh from Bridget’s flamethrower if they ran into someone trying to break into the base whilst on their patrol. From every window Oswald had instructed snipers, all on the lookout for trouble. 

“Gotham is more dangerous than ever,” he had told Ed as the gunmen swapped shift earlier that night. “People who have always been at the bottom of the hierarchy are trying to claw their way up to the top and they’re ruthless. They have no respect for the old ways, they just want destruction and to bring pain. Most of them are mad, worse than even some of Arkham’s most deranged. I suspect it will start to settle down in a couple of weeks when it becomes clear Jim Gordan and his band of merry men aren’t going to back down, but if we are to remain on top then we can’t show any weakness. They’ll pounce on it and try and take over the underworld.”

“We?” 

“Me, I, you, everyone here,” Oswald stumbled over his slip, looking down as the tips of his ears start to redden. “We are the powerful ones of Gotham, the true rulers. And I don’t plan on giving up on that for Sadistic Sally who skins cats alive and eats children.” 

“He still wants us. Even after everything, he can’t get enough,” his double had commented from where he was lounging on the lumpy sofa, hands clasped together. But his tone was different than Ed was used to, it was softer and less mocking. He found himself agreeing with the other’s words, not feeling the rage and disgust that he had grown used to experiencing whenever he had thought of Oswald like… that. 

Accepting that sleep is a long way off, Ed stands and tries to dart around the surrounding cots as best he can. The pain in his leg, now worse than it has ever been making it a tricky task. As he slips out of the room and into the main hallway he is temporarily blinded by the bright lights. Absently he wonders how they have managed to obtain a power source, under the impression that Jerimiah’s bombs had destroyed Gotham’s electricity plant. 

This is forgotten as he realises he has wandered into the make-shift infirmary, instantly spotted by Lee who is tending to a patient. He wants to run and avoid the confrontation that is no doubt coming his way, but his leg wouldn’t allow it and the Riddler is stood at the doorway, the look on his face practically daring Ed to try and leave. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Lee said, wandering over to Ed when finished with the older man. She looks as exhausted as he feels, though it’s not surprising. The clock above the door tells him it’s just gone 2am and he knows that she won’t have had a nap since arriving. 

“Always full of surprises that’s me,” Ed’s attempt at a joke falls flat, and if possible, the atmosphere is even more awkward now. It had never been like that between them in the Narrows, they had never been awkward. They had been a lot of things, most of which weren’t true, but awkward had never been one of them. 

“I am sorry, about stabbing you, and having to lie,” Lee said eventually, never one to shy away from a difficult situation. 

“No, she’s not,” the Riddler said from behind Lee, looking at her with a bemused expression. 

“No, you’re not,” Ed mirrored. “You’d do it again in a heartbeat if you had to.”   
To her credit Lee is silent for a moment, mulling over Ed’s words and trying to formulate her own response. “You’re right, I would.” 

Ed expects pain at her admission, searing, ripping pain at his heart like he had experienced with Kristen and Isabella. He expects anger that the woman in front of him would rather him dead than try and love him. But nothing comes. Just cool acceptance. Huh, that’s different. 

A cry of pain from another patient steals away Lee’s attention, and as quietly as he can, Ed goes to leave. “You can stay and help if you want?” Lee calls after him, pulling the stethoscope to her ears. 

“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” Ed smiled coolly, clicking the door shut behind him.

It successfully blocks out the noise of pain, and apart from a couple of men that Ed recognises as having been loyal to Oswald from practically day one, the hallway is empty. He knows trying to go back to bed would be futile, his mind is whirring at a million miles an hour and there’s no way he’d be able to sleep. So, he sets off down the corridor there had been an old records room somewhere close by, maybe if he could find it he could pull up some old maps of Gotham to try and figure out where the other gangs are hiding out. 

It was all well and good being on the defence, but that wouldn’t win them the war anytime soon. If he could get to some maps, Ed just knew he’d be able to create some offence attacks. But the combination of lack of pain relief and exhaustion means that the pain in his leg is worse than ever, and he’s aware that’s he actively limping to keep as much weight off of it as possible. Every-time he stands too heavily on it he can’t help but let out a whimper of pain, sounding like a pathetic, wounded animal. 

“What’s going on – Ed! Are you ok? Oh my,” Oswald froze from the room he had emerged, eyes wide at seeing Ed in so much visible pain. Before the taller man can say anything to make him leave, Oswald has rushed over, pulling Ed’s arm over his shoulder. 

“What are doing? I’m fine, just leave me to it,” he tried to argue, ineffectually batting Oswald away. But the other man has a strong grip, and eventually Ed gives up, leaning into Oswald’s side as he helps him to his office and to the closest chair. 

“Your leg?” Oswald asked, pouring two generous drinks and passing one over to Ed. He drinks it in one, hoping that the alcohol will work to reduce the aching. 

“Serves me right for getting into a dispute with a doctor. She’ll always know how to cause the most harm,” Ed said with a hollow laugh. “I’ll be fine Oswald, you don’t need to sit with me.” 

“You did with me,” he replied, voice low. “During the election remember? You’d sit with me when my leg was causing me pain, helped to distract me from it.”

“That was a long time ago,” Ed said. Nausea rose from the pit of his stomach and he didn’t think it was because of his leg. “A lot’s changed now.” 

“Everything’s changed. And it’s because of that that we need to stay strong. If we can’t work together Ed then we’re never going to win, because lets face it, it is me and you against everyone else. Just like it always has been.”

“God I can tell you were a politician,” but Ed’s tone was joking. He motioned for Oswald to refill his glass, which he did without a word. “So, what’s your battleplan then, oh wise one?” 

}}}}}}}}}}}

Oswald was right, after two weeks there is less carnage, but Ed can tell the chaos that’s wrapped around Gotham city is far from over. Factions all over have started to form, trying to rival Oswald and the group he had gathered around him. So far, they’ve never been successful, Oswald has more experience than most and the numbers to support him. 

They’ve even worked with Jim Gordan and what remains of the GCPD to bat down some of the loonier individuals. Lee had pulled some strings to get her ex to open up discussions, though she stubbornly remains at the mini hospital that has been set up in the town hall, the original having been burnt to the ground whilst she and Ed were still dead. 

Ed is different now, he can feel it deep down inside of him but despite the return to his normal intelligence he can’t find the words to describe it. More than ever, there’s less distinction between him and the Riddler. Whilst once they were constantly warring, they are now cohesive, more of a unit rather than two separate entities in one space. Lee is different too, he doesn’t know if it’s in the same way as him or not, they don’t talk about it. Things are… off between them, he doesn’t know if they’ll ever return to normal, but he no longer holds a torch for her as he once did. No part of him does. 

Their main interactions come when he limps down to the infirmary for more pain relief. His leg is still in agony most days but Lee can’t find a reason for it. The injury she had inflicted on him hadn’t gone anywhere near his spinal cord, and the scans they have managed to carry out have given them no other answers. They reason that Strange must have done something, but the creepy professor denies any such wrong-doing. Not that he was the most trustworthy source Ed had argued to Oswald one night when they were the only two left in his office. 

That’s another thing Ed can’t wrap his head around. Himself and Oswald. He had gotten so used to fighting the other man, to hating him and wanting to kill him, that now they are at peace with no ulterior motive, he doesn’t quite know how to react. He doesn’t know what to call their relationship. They don’t feel like enemies anymore. But they feel more than just allies. More than once they’ve stayed up to the early hours of the morning talking, and rarely strategizing. 

Oswald had helped him greatly with his leg, giving Ed refuge when it’s at its worse, a place to release the pain building up and a shoulder to quite literally cry on. Are they friends? He finds himself asking as he slips into Oswald’s office. It’s empty still, the other man had been in the main foyer just moments before talking to his men, but Ed knows that he’ll get there eventually. He always does. 

Are they more than friends? The lines have been blurred between them for so long that it’s hard to be objective. For once Ed doesn’t have an answer, and for the first time, he finds himself ok with it. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” a familiar voice breaks him out of his reverie, and without thought, Ed feels himself smiling as he meets the familiar, pale blue eyes. 

“Just trying to think of how we’re going to hit that bank next week,” he says, referencing the latest plan that Oswald had been working through. 

“Well stop working, I’ve got something for you,” Oswald said, a mischievous glint in his eye. Only then does Ed notice the long, thin box behind his back. 

“Oh, it’s like Christmas!” his other self exclaims, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. 

“What’s that?” Ed asks instead, frowning in bemusement as Oswald passes him the box. It’s a little weighty, but not overly heavy, though it’s long, very long. He places it down on the desk, to pull the lid of the box off, gasping in surprise at the sight he is greeted with. 

It’s a cane. Long and golden, it looks just as fancy as all of Oswald’s. But it’s not the stick that has caught his eye, but the handpiece. A small question mark, the gold glinting underneath the light. 

“Do you like it?” Oswald asks, practically shaking he’s so eager to hear Ed’s thoughts. 

“It’s incredible, honestly Oswald it’s amazing,” Ed says, having to blink back tears that are threatening to spill. Without thinking he turns and pulls the other man into a hug. It’s only when he feels Oswald stiffen does he realise what he’s done. And how long it has been since he had held the other man in his arms. “I am truly, so sorry for all that I’ve done. After everything, it amazes me that you can still care so much. You amaze me Oswald.” 

Oswald is silent, but as they separate Ed can see that he is blinking back his own tears.

“Enough of this. We won’t win any battles if we’re here, crying like teenage girls. We, Edward Nygma, have a city to rule. Together.”


End file.
